Revelations Aren't For The Faint Of Heart
by Deception's Call
Summary: On a frustrating night, Spider-Man fails to notice the flash of a camera when he unmasks himself. Now, a greedy man has the identity of the masked hero in his possession...and he intends to pay a visit to the Daily Bugle. -Contains two endings-
1. His Power

**I got a good response on my other first spidey fic, Racing The Sun, so here I am with another one-shot! :D Anyway, I hope you guys like this one as much as the other one. :)**

**_Alternate Title: Revelations Aren't For The Faint-Hearted._  
**

**The Amazing Spider-Man MOVIEVERSE.**

* * *

He didn't expect it. Not that night.

The mugger had gotten a lucky break and was able to get away, but not before throwing in a slash to the cheek to the masked man.

Spider-Man was angry, frustrated and irritated with himself. Although he was able to return the purse to the old woman, the thief had gotten away with some of his blood on his switchblade, and he was afraid that he might take it to a scientist to have his DNA checked.

But he was pretty sure that the thief wasn't that smart.

He wasn't able to get a good look at the mugger's face, but he was certain that he was male from the posture of his body and the rough edge to his voice. Like him, he too wore a mask.

When the clock struck 3:00am, Spider-Man swung into the alley which held his bag and swung up to the roof where he could get a clearer look at himself and get dressed. He couldn't risk swinging into his apartment in his costume, someone might see him from the buildings opposite his own.

He tapped his cheek and winced slightly. The gash was deep and swollen, and he was going to have to make a pretty damn good excuse when he visits Aunt May after the Daily Bugle.

But of course, he could always call it off. But a promise is a promise.

Spider-Man grunted in visible frustration and ripped his mask off. Underneath, Peter Parker was clenching his jaw and muttering to himself about how he failed the city with letting a thief go loose. He was sure to keep an eye out for him and place him in jail – where he belongs.

Slowly, Peter rubbed his eyes and took his phone out of his bag. In his reflection, he could see that the slash started from right underneath his eye and ran all the way down to the bottom of his jaw. If the hit was any higher, his eye could have been pried out.

He shuddered at the thought.

Stuffing his phone and mask into his bag, Peter grumbled about infections and the cost of medicine. He might not be able to eat for a couple of weeks.

It was either starve or get infected to the point of death.

But then again, death ran both ways.

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head at his absurd thoughts.

Then he realized that in the haste of getting changed, that he didn't put his clothes in his bag like usual, instead he stuffed them into a nearby dumpster.

_Great. _Peter thought to himself. Now his clothes might be trashed by the filth of New York City trash.

It really wasn't his day.

Peter swore softly to himself and laced his bag on his back and hopped down from the building.

Because of his thoughts and evident frustration on his day, Peter failed to notice the flash of a camera.

* * *

Gordon Wilson trembled under the night sky with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He had just lost his most recent job because he came to work late for the tenth time in a row as well as being hungover.

He was late on his rent and his ex-wife was in desperate need of money to support his lone daughter. The landlord had been pestering him for months on end about his overdue rent, and he was about to get kicked out. Wilson couldn't afford it, he'd be out on the streets and then what? Get saved by Spider-Man while he gets mugged?

He snarled inwardly. How he hated that web-crawling _freak. _

He hated how he was so able to evade the police on a day to day basis, how people looked up to him and how _easy _his life seemed to be.

I mean, how hard could it be to swing from building to building without a care in the world while everyone grovelled at your feet?

And Gordon Wilson guessed that it wasn't that hard.

Not only that, but he had no blatant disregard for public property. Heck, only a three months ago, his car had been trashed because of Spider-Man battling The Lizard. He planned to sell it, it was the only thing that he had left. But the wall-crawler had to destroy Oscorp Tower and ruin everything.

He ruined a lot of things.

His wife had left him that night his car got trashed, she said that she couldn't take their life anymore, that it wasn't what she wanted. So she left and took their daughter with her without hesitation.

Didn't she know that it wasn't what he wanted as well?

Gordon Wilson was pretty sure that no one cared for anybody but themselves.

And despite Spider-Man 'risking' his life on a daily basis, he was pretty sure that it was for the glory. Nothing more, nothing less.

That night, Wilson planned to lounge up on the roof of his apartment building underneath the shadow of the small shed that rested above it. It was his last night, he was being kicked out tomorrow.

He never expected to see Spider-Man swing in and drop down to the alley below.

Wilson thought nothing of it, he didn't even pay attention when the web-crawler swung back up with a bag in his hand.

He noticed that the man looked to be frustrated, his mask was scrunching up in his facial area and there seemed to be a reasonable amount of blood flowing steadily down his right cheek.

Spider-Man tapped it and shook his head. Wilson found this particularly amusing. It was no secret that the 'hero' tended to keep a cool head during his battles. But no one saw him after them. It appears as though the 'hero' isn't as cool-headed as he's made out to be.

Or maybe it's just tonight.

He sloshed the remaining whiskey quietly, not wanting to disturb the masked man on the roof beside him.

Though Gordon Wilson did wonder why the man had a backpack with him. Surely he didn't need it? And if he did, what for?

Wilson's breath hitched in his throat when Spider-Man ripped his mask off.

His eyes widened at the sight. It was a full moon, and the street lamps were flickering. He could see the man quite clearly.

No, he wasn't a man. He was a _boy._

Wilson scoffed. He couldn't be more than nineteen. He was seventeen at the youngest. Heck, he nearly laughed with the thought that Spider-Man was in high school!

He couldn't imagine the 'hero' sitting in a classroom with notes and a textbook. He seemed better suited to be swinging along the New York skyscrapers and crawling up walls.

The boy was clearly flustered, he was muttering to himself about something that Wilson couldn't understand. Was Spider-Man insane?

Probably.

Wilson could see that the boy was slim, and his face didn't seem like the type that would fight back. From the look of his actual face, Spider-Man looked like a normal, skinny and weak teenage boy.

But from the outline of his skin-tight suit, he was anything but skinny.

Gordon Wilson wondered about how the public would react once they realized that the one that they looked up to was a mere _boy._

Wilson saw the boy laughing to himself.

_Yep. _He thought. _Definitely insane._

Then something struck Wilson after he noticed that Spider-Man was no longer holding his phone.

_His phone! _

Wilson fumbled with his pockets quietly, patting to find the place of his phone.

He took it out and got out of his seat to move behind the shed. He couldn't risk being seen. But Spider-Man looked too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice him.

He decided to move quickly, because the boy might not be there once he gets back.

Selecting the camera option with flash, he quietly moved back into his position, just in time to see Spider-Man, sans mask, about to leap off the building.

Moving quickly into action, Wilson clicked the button and there in his phone, was a picture of Spider-Man unmasked.

It really was his day.

* * *

Gordon Wilson developed his pictures over at a friend's apartment. To his luck, the guy owed him a favour for that one time covering for him when he got drunk on the job.

He worked into the morning, uploading and editing the picture to his standards. After he was done, the photo was clearer and sharper, creating a much better image of the boy known as the masked man.

His friend, Gary Hekland, asked no questions about the reason why Gordon Wilson was standing on his doorstep at 4:00am in the morning – and left him to his own devices.

If he was curious enough, he might've found out that the photo was of the boy that helped him out on the street just the week before when he threw up on his shirt and passed out due to being intoxicated in the afternoon.

* * *

Peter shoved his photography binder in his bag along with his physics textbooks and suit.

His hands trembled in fear of what J. Jonah Jameson was going to do to him if he was late _again. _He needed this job to help pay for college. He had already gotten some of his textbooks to do some early reading just in case he wouldn't be able to appear for his lectures, but he only had half of what he needed.

He graduated a month after he defeated the Lizard, but now his first school year as a college freshman was looming around the corner.

Along with new textbooks and his college tuition, his Aunt May was having trouble with paying the rent for the house, and he couldn't bear to have her live in the city where it wasn't safe. But unlike her, he needed to live in the city for it to be easier to get to classes as well as Spider-Man business.

He just got an apartment a week ago. In fact, he was on his way for his first night there when he was held back by a drunk guy that was passed out on the street.

Peter couldn't just leave him to choke on his own vomit.

So with frantic hands and a frantic mind, Peter zipped up his bag and swung out of his window, heading for the Daily Bugle.

* * *

Gordon Wilson was giddy with excitement.

He pushed through the entrance doors of the Daily Bugle and strode to the black-haired assistant with the nametag _'Betty Brant._'

"Why hello beautiful," Wilson greeted.

She looked up from her papers and gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat and gestured to the door. "I'm here to see Mr. Jameson."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Well no, but –"

"Then I'm afraid you can't go in."

Wilson grunted and sighed. "Listen, I've got the identity of Spider-Man in my hands and this man hates his guts as much as me! Wouldn't you all like to end his rant about this masked man and finally put him to rest?"

He caught the assistant looking over to a man across the room with worried eyes. The man across the room gave a slight shake of his head before turning around and seemingly heading into his own small office.

Betty sighed, "Fine. Go in."

Wilson smiled, "Thank you."

She said nothing in response.

Gordon Wilson gripped the handle and entered the room with glee. Finally, it was the moment that would change everything! He wouldn't be known as a failure! He would be known as the man who famously unmasked the web-crawling _hero._

He'd be able to get money by selling the photos to newspapers, and he would be able to get a decent meal for once, and pay his rent, and perhaps even find a new job in the process.

Yes, everything was going well for Gordon Wilson.

"Who are _you?"_

Wilson turned around and came face-to-face with a snarling J. Jonah Jameson.

Straightening up, Wilson walked towards the desk and stuck his hand out for Jameson to shake. "Gordon Wilson."

"And you think I care? What are you doing here?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes and retracted his hand. "I've know the identity of Spider-Man."

Jameson blinked.

Then he started laughing.

"Oh you're a funny guy! …Get out of my office."

It was Wilson's turn to blink.

"Why?"

Jameson shrugged and lit a cigar. "I don't have time for phonies like you. Now, come back when you have something worth showing to me."

Wilson growled. Sure, he respected the man for his rants about Spider-Man, but the man had certainly no respect for his readers like they did for him.

"If you don't mind. I am no phony, I have pictures of him unmasked in my hands!" Wilson waved around the file.

Jameson lifted an eyebrow and opened his mouth.

But before he could say something to the frantic man, the door busted open.

Jameson completely forgot about the man before him and paid attention to his freelance photographer.

"Parker! Where have you been? You're late!" the man screeched.

Wilson grumbled and closed his eyes. He began to rub his temples.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jameson –"

"Sorry doesn't cut it. You're fired!"

Wilson's eyes shot opened as he looked at the other person that occupied the room. His mouth dried at what he saw.

The teenage boy he saw before him wore a tired expression. The dark circles under his eyes were as evident as the gash that adorned his cheek.

_It's definitely him. _Wilson thought.

His clothes were hanging off him, too big for his slender frame. He definitely wouldn't be suspected as Spider-Man anytime soon.

But that was about to change. And he was waiting to jump at the perfect opportunity to reveal that the freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle was the person that the boss hated the most.

He almost laughed out loud at the irony.

"Please Sir, I need this job! I've got pictures!" the boy known as 'Parker' explained.

"Oh really? And what's in it for me? It'll save me money," Jameson retorted.

Parker sighed, "But Mr. Jameson! None of your other photographers can get pictures of Spider-Man! I really need this job!"

Wilson snorted and the two other men looked at him with weird looks before starting back up at each other.

_So that's how the Bugle always has photos of Spider-Man. Their photographer is Spider-Man himself._

But something tugged at Wilson when he kept hearing the boy beg for his job back. It made him think of himself when he got fired. And it seemed like Spider-Man's life wasn't as easy as it seemed to be.

The man from earlier entered the room and put a hand on Parker's shoulder.

"Come out Jonah. Give Peter his job back, he's the best photographer we've got and you know it."

_That's his name? Peter Parker? It's so…normal._

Jameson grunted in response.

"You don't have to say it Jonah, but his pictures have been on the front page more than any other photographer in this city, and he's only eighteen."

_Eighteen?_

Wilson was right, the boy was only a teenager. His daughter was turning eighteen in a month, and he couldn't help but think that both of them might have gone to school together.

Gordon Wilson thought back to his daughter, how young she looked in his eyes, and how much she relied on her parents to get her through high school. He thought about her roaming the streets at night, and how she was an easy target for muggers and rapists.

He shuddered at the thought of his daughter screaming.

And yet, even in her fragile state, his daughter didn't look as bad as this boy did in front of him.

His daughter didn't have scars along her neck and bruises all over her face, she didn't have a haunted look in her eyes that suggested that she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. No, she didn't have any of that.

And here, in front of his is a scared looking teenage boy who looks like he's been beat up himself.

_I guess no one really thinks about how it all affects him._

"Please Mr. Jameson," Peter rasped, "I need the money to pay for my college tuition, and…and I need it for my textbooks. I'm running low on cash and I need to help my aunt pay her rent and mine's due soon.

"Please Mr. Jameson, I'm begging you."

That did it.

For both J. Jonah Jameson and Gordon Wilson.

The desperation in the boy's voice broke both of them. Jameson sighed and stuck his hand out which Peter gladly took.

"No Parker, the folder," he scolded.

"Oh."

He fumbled with his bag which Wilson recognized as the bag from last night, and he was pretty sure that his eyes weren't fooling him when he saw a quick flash of red and blue.

Peter handed over his photos and Jameson flicked through them quickly.

"Crap, crap, it's all crap," he commented. But to Wilson's shock, the boy was still smiling at his boss.

"I'll give you $200 for all of them."

Peter sighed and relaxed, "Thanks Mr. Jameson."

While Jameson was writing up his check, the man who backed up Peter suddenly fixated his eyes on Peter's cheek.

"Peter! What do you do at night? That's a nasty cut right there."

The boy's eyes lit up and he tapped his wound, realizing that it opened and was bleeding again.

"Oh! I…um…I got mugged last night."

_Lies._

"Well are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. Really Robbie, there's no need to be worried."

Robbie arched an eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Peter. Just be careful."

Then he left the room.

Jameson looked up from his checkbook and eyed WIlson. "Who are _you?_"

Wilson's mouth gaped open. "Gordon Wilson! I've been in here for fifteen minutes!"

"Have you?"

"Yes!"

"Oh now I remember. You're that phony that claimed he knew the identity of Spider-Man!" he laughed.

Suddenly, Peter's eyes flickered over to meet Wilson's. They were filled with panic and surprisingly…fear.

Wilson knew what this meant for the boy. It meant that he would be out of a job, and without a job he can't pay for the necessities in his life as well as college. And along with that, with his identity known, his enemies could so easily target his family and loved ones. He'd never be left alone, he'd never have privacy.

Gordon Wilson knew exactly what this meant.

Spider-Man would disappear.

And his mind switched back to the thought of his daughter screaming for help. For anybody to come and help her.

And in a world without Spider-Man, no one would ever come.

"No Jameson, you were right. I am a phony," Wilson said while staring at Peter.

"Well then get out of my office!" he roared.

And so Wilson turned around and didn't look back.

* * *

The next day, Wilson was moving into Gary's apartment. He would start looking for a temporary job once he'd settled in, and once he was making a steady enough living, he'd get his own apartment.

Gary didn't mind, in fact he was pretty glad about the thought of not being lonely.

Gordon Wilson slept soundly the night he came back from the Daily Bugle. Because he knew that even if he didn't like Spider-Man, at least he was able to save a teenage boy from a life like his.

Broke. Scared. Jobless.

And that was probably the most comforting thought of all.

So when he read in the newspaper that Spider-Man saved a young teenage girl from getting raped, he did one thing that he had not done in a long time.

He smiled.

* * *

**Taa-daa! Second fic! Way longer than anticipated! Anyway I hope you guys liked it and if you do, don't hesitate to leave a review (: they're always appreciated.**

**Also! A short alternate ending will be up next!**


	2. His Responsibility

**An alternate ending:**

* * *

_Gordon Wilson thought back to his daughter, how young she looked in his eyes, and how much she relied on her parents to get her through high school. He thought about her roaming the streets at night, and how she was an easy target for muggers and rapists. _

_He shuddered at the thought of his daughter screaming. _

But he knew that even though the crime rate had dramatically decreased, that all the law-breakers were in the business for the thrill of it.

And there was no greater thrill than getting away from Spider-Man.

Wilson clenched his jaw and tightened his fists. Yes, Spider-Man was supposedly doing 'good,' but he was putting people in more danger than preventing it.

The crime rates have decreased because Spider-Man thwarted the attempts of these law-breakers, not because they got scared and went into hiding.

No, in fact Gordon Wilson was pretty sure that there were more muggers and rapists around because of the vigilante.

They want to test his patience and his skill.

But they pay for it.

And so do the victims.

Gritting his teeth, Wilson slammed his file onto the desk.

"Listen Jameson, look at the file. I think you'll be pretty shocked to what you see. And make sure to look at it while your photographer's here. My address is in there, I hope to see my payment in the mail sometime soon."

He smirked and turned around, without ever looking into Spider-Man's eyes.

When he closed the door, that's when the screaming began.

"What is that?" Betty asked.

Wilson shook his head and gave a triumphant smile, "I think that Jameson just found out who Spider-Man is."

Her eyes widened and rushed inside the office. When the door opened, Wilson saw that the photography was careful evading the furniture being thrown around by his webs while the other man restrained Jameson.

"You little liar! How dare you! _**How dare you fool me! **_" Jameson roared.

Peter flinched at his words and Wilson got a glimpse of the wall-crawler's face. It was sad, ashen and grave, and Wilson was sure that he saw a tear trickle down his uninjured cheek.

The photographer tried to approach his former boss peacefully, but Jameson wouldn't have any of it.

He shrugged off Betty and the other man and strode over to Peter, his face fuming with anger.

"Get out of my office. And don't _**ever **_show your face here again."

* * *

The paper was published with Spider-Man's identity. The city was shocked at the age of the boy and it caused an uproar.

Gordon Wilson got his check in the mail, and he was able to pay his rent and send money to his ex-wife. Everything was going well.

Although gradually, day by day, sightings of Spider-Man became scarce. And soon he wasn't seen at all. Not the boy. Not the man.

Nothing.

Spider-Man and Peter Parker had completely fallen off New York City's radar. He had disappeared.

And with any luck, maybe the guilt would, too.

* * *

**Here's the alternate ending! The only reason I wrote it was because I really liked the last line that I had in mind :3**

**Anyway, thank you for reading! And if you like it, don't hesitate to leave a review! :3 I would really appreciate it to know which ending you guys liked better :) **

**Thank you! :D **


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